


Ducks and Grass and You

by Krasimer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Loves Stiles, Dorks in Love, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Neither of them is good at saying this outloud, Secret Crush, Sort Of, Stiles Loves Derek, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17830205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: Derek snuffled in his sleep, his chin on his chest, and one of his feet twitched. In response, Stiles made a small pile of grass on the toe of his shoe. “Y’know, big guy,” he spoke soft enough that he wouldn’t wake Derek up with it. “You’re actually really nice when you stop yelling at me.” He added another pile of grass on his other foot. “And when you’re sleeping, you look a lot softer. Happier. I mean, I don’t know what nightmare-visions you’re having in your head, but you definitely look calmer. Ten out of ten, would recommend the softness of a nice big bed and some good dreams for you.”He took a deep breath and sighed. “Would also recommend a different town, honestly. I know Beacon Hill is your territory or whatever, but this place seems like it’s killing you.”Derek snorted, twitched again, then resettled. Stiles waited until he had stopped moving to start up with the talking again.





	Ducks and Grass and You

Strangely enough, it started with ducks.

Well, sort of.

Stiles grabbed another handful of grass and started lining Derek’s other leg with it, watching the werewolf sleeping on the bench. Another day, another fight with the Nemeton, an exhausted werewolf who had fallen asleep on a bench, watching some ducks swim around in a small pond.

It was actually almost cute.

When he was awake, Derek was all eyebrows and moody glares and flashing eyes. Sharp teeth and claws, too, but usually only when he was actually pissed off. The times that Stiles had seen him relaxed and soft could literally not only be counted on one hand but on two fingers. This was one of those two times. The rest of the pack had gone off to do whatever– clean themselves off, go home and sleep, get some food together –but Stiles had stayed behind, with Derek. Even Peter had headed out, sticking weirdly close to Mister Argent.

But Stiles had stayed.

It might have something to do with the major crush he’d had on the big guy.

The way he wanted to see him safe.

(He wasn’t going to admit to being in love, not even to himself.)

Derek snuffled in his sleep, his chin on his chest, and one of his feet twitched. In response, Stiles made a small pile of grass on the toe of his shoe. “Y’know, big guy,” he spoke soft enough that he wouldn’t wake Derek up with it. “You’re actually really nice when you stop yelling at me.” He added another pile of grass on his other foot. “And when you’re sleeping, you look a lot softer. Happier. I mean, I don’t know what nightmare-visions you’re having in your head, but you definitely look calmer. Ten out of ten, would recommend the softness of a nice big bed and some good dreams for you.”

He took a deep breath and sighed. “Would also recommend a different town, honestly. I know Beacon Hill is your territory or whatever, but this place seems like it’s killing you.”

Derek snorted, twitched again, then resettled. Stiles waited until he had stopped moving to start up with the talking again. “I mean…Look at what’s happening to you here. This place has done nothing but _hurt you_ and you keep coming back. We almost lost Erica and Boyd, Boyd almost died in your apartment and you still live there. Peter went a little crazy and you almost lost one of the few people remaining of your blood-related family. Why are you still in Beacon Hill?” a pause. “I mean…I’m glad you stayed. I like that you’re here. I’m just wondering why you still are.

“I’d miss you a lot if you left, but I would understand why you did.” Stiles frowned at the pond, watching some ducks fight over food. “I’d like to say I wouldn’t be angry, but I know it’s a lie. If you left, I wouldn’t be happy about it, but…I would understand. Dad and I considered leaving after mom…” he shook his head, turning back to Derek. “Anyway.”

He stood up and brushed himself off, taking a deep breath before grinning. “Hey, Derek!”

With the sudden loud voice calling his name, Derek flailed as he woke up, almost falling off the bench. He glared as he pushed himself back upright, his mouth already pulled into a snarl as he faced Stiles. “What the hell, Stiles.”

“Ooh, someone’s not a morning person,” Stiles laughed as he danced out of reach. “I just thought it might be time to go home, sleepy wolf. A bed would be better for your—”

“Why am I covered in _grass_ , Stiles?”

His grin frozen on his face, Stiles laughed again. As Derek stood up, Stiles automatically backed away before turning on his toes and sprinting for his jeep. Derek was a werewolf, was fast and strong and quick on the draw, but Stiles still managed to get the jeep running and into gear before Derek could even make it closer than a few feet.

“See you next time!” Stiles called out of the window. “Don’t stay out too late!”

In his rearview mirror, he could see Derek put a hand over his face.

 

X

 

Stiles was a ridiculous dork.

That was the only thing Derek could conclude from the whole situation. With a sigh, he leaned down and brushed the grass off, watching it fall as he ignored the fact that he was smiling. Stiles was aggravating, frustrating and confusing and impossible to keep in line.

And yet.

Derek couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t do anything but watch as the jeep drove off. If the others of the pack had been there, still, they would have heard his heart rate pick up, beating faster in his chest as Stiles had talked to him. There would have been some merciless mocking perhaps some grins. Laughter, as well.

Because he hadn’t actually been asleep when Stiles had been talking to him.

His eyes had been closed and he had been very still, but his mind had still been awake. He could still hear things when he was like that. When he had been a cub, it had helped keep him from getting pranked by his sisters.

Now, it seemed, it was good for listening to Stiles telling him he would miss him if he left.

That Stiles liked how he looked when he was resting, liked the softer look.

He was twenty, now, and still just as loud as he had been at sixteen.

Derek watched the Jeep disappear into the distance, listened to the stutter and rumble of the engine until he couldn’t hear it anymore.

He’d been awake.

Mostly, anyway.

It had been that in-between state: he still heard what was happening around him, still aware of the world, but his body was sleep-heavy and he was tired. His eyes had been closed, but he’d been able to hear what was happening.

And Stiles, with his human hearing, hadn’t known the difference between that and true sleep.

A werewolf would have known in seconds, would have heard the difference in heart rate, would have heard his pulse thudding in an awake pattern. Any of the others in the pack would have known instantly. But Stiles had just gone on a ramble about the things Derek had lived through, the things he’d seen.

And it made something in him want to go after the loud, annoying, frustrating, brilliant idiot.

Stiles was—

If he thought about it too long, too much, he remembered his mom and dad and how happy they had been together. How there had been little moments in between them and little habits with each other. His dad, every Friday, had bought his mom a small gift, a small treat, something that he’d seen and just decided to get for her. Something that had said, ‘I’ve been thinking about you’ and ‘I love you’ without being obvious and obnoxious.

The way she had leaned on him when Pack politics got to be too much for her to handle alone.

They had been deeply devoted to each other, his strongest example of love when growing up, and he wanted something like that for himself.

Had always wanted something like that for himself.

Derek slouched down in the driver’s seat of his car, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. Stiles, for being annoying, was still the sort of person he could…

He shook his head.

It wasn’t going to happen.

Stiles wouldn’t want anything to do with him if he knew.

(He’d been in love for a year, now. Ever since Stiles had stayed at his bedside and kept him company through the injury that had made him immobile for almost a week.)

Suddenly annoyed at himself, Derek sat up and turned the car on, tearing out of the lot and disturbing the quiet, hopefully leaving his useless fantasies behind him as he drove. That was the sort of thing he could have when he was alone in the dark, not the sort of thing that would make it and survive in the light of day.

His romantic history gave him a reason not to pursue anything ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, get your shit together. This was supposed to be happy and then Derek's sub-oceanic levels of self-esteem tanked it.


End file.
